Can't Go: Ho:Me

The glow of streetlights illuminated the quiet neighborhood as Shinku and Kirria walked together. The night air was cool, and the sound of distant city life filled the silence between them. “You’re okay, right?” Shinku asked.

“I am,” Kirria said, her voice carrying a hint of bittersweetness. “I really enjoyed this last week with you, big brother.” Her demeanor, still slightly off.

Shinku smiled. “It’s no problem. You’ve been learning a lot.”

Kirria smiled. “My break from school is almost over, so I won’t be able to shadow you anymore. But… I really appreciate the experience.”

Shinku placed a hand on her shoulder. “Of course. You don’t even need to call—just come over anytime. I’ll always have your back, Kirria. Anything you or Ukiri needs, just ask.”

She looked somberly. “Thanks, Shinku.”

The sudden noise of drones flying overhead loudened, their voices announcing the forecast: “Rain expected in fifteen minutes! All computers inside!”

Kirria looked up, noticing the faint gray clouds gathering. “It’s about to rain.”

He nodded. “Yeah. You make it home safe, alright? I can’t walk you all the way to your door tonight—I’ll die out here.”

Kirria waved off his concern. “That’s okay.”

Before he could turn to leave, she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him in a warm hug. “I love you, big brother.”

Shinku was caught off guard. “Uh-! Me too, Kirria.” He gently hugged back.

She released him, her smile glowed. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Shinku replied. He waited momentarily, ensuring she was on her way, before turning to head back to his own apartment.

Back at his place, Shinku sank into his couch with a yawn. He glanced at the book sitting on his table.

“Finally,” he muttered. “I can get into the books I bought.”

Opening the book, he revealed a flash-drive-like object nestled inside. Without hesitation, he plugged it into the port behind his ear. As the information began transferring directly into his neural interface, his thoughts started to process the stream of data.

But before he could fully immerse himself, his phone buzzed.

“Who could this be?” he grumbled, glancing at the screen. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the name: Ukiri.

He picked up immediately. “Ukiri?!”

Ukiri’s voice was frantic, almost incoherent. “Shinku! Shinku!”

Shinku straightened in his chair. “Calm down, Ukiri! Tell me slowly—what’s going on?!”

“It’s Kirria!” Ukiri’s words tumbling out in a rush. “She was taking too long to come home! You usually walk her all the way to the door, but it’s raining, so you must’ve dropped her off in the middle of the neighborhood, right?”

Shinku’s heart pounded. “Yeah, I—”

“She should’ve been home in a few minutes!” Ukiri shouted. “I went outside to check, and she was—she was—”

“No…” Shinku whispered, dread clawing inside him..

“She was—” Ukiri’s sobs overtook her. “She’s gone, Shinku! Someone… someone—”

Shinku’s vision blurred as panic surged through him. “I’m coming. Stay where you are.”

He hung up, his movements quick and deliberate. Throwing on his coat and gear, he rushed out into the pouring rain. His vehicle struggled to keep up with the downpour as he sped through the drenched streets.

The rain only seemed to intensify as he reached Ukiri’s small home. Shinku barely stopped the car before jumping out and rushing inside.

Ukiri was sitting on the floor, her body trembling as sobs wracked her frame. Her tear-streaked face turned to him as he entered, her eyes filled with grief. “Shinku…”

His eye went to the center of the room, where Kirria’s lifeless body lay. His knees buckled slightly as he saw her neck mangled, her small frame eerily still.

“No…” The word escaped him as a whisper, carried away by the relentless pounding of rain against the windows.

Ukiri clung to him, her sobs echoing in the suffocating silence. “Please, Shinku… she didn’t deserve this! Please find who did this to her!”

Shinku knelt beside Kirria, his trembling hands reaching out to gently cradle her body. Her warmth was replaced by a cold stillness that pierced him.

“I’m so sorry, Kirria,” his voice broke.

Ukiri’s sobs muffled against his coat. “Please, Officer Shinku…! She didn’t deserve this!”

Shinku’s hands trembled as he knelt beside Kirria’s body, gently lifting her into his arms. Her warmth was gone, her vibrant spirit extinguished.

He looked down at Ukiri, furiously. “I’ll find them,” he promised, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. “I swear to you, I’ll find who did this.”

Ukiri’s cries grew louder, her grief raw and uncontainable. Shinku stood, carrying Kirria’s fragile body in his arms. The weight was both physical and emotional, a burden he would bear until justice was served.

“I’ll make them pay,” he vowed, his voice low and filled with resolve. “They’ll never hurt anyone else again.”

Tackle stirred from her bed, her phone jumped on her nightstand. “Come to my place. Now.” It was a message from Shinku.

She arrived at Shinku’s apartment with urgency. The door was ajar, a thin sliver of light spilling into the hallway. “Shinku?” she called softly, pushing the door open further.

The scene inside made her pause. Shinku sat slumped on the couch, his hair disheveled and his face pale. The room was in disarray—papers and books scattered haphazardly. Across from him, Bontly and Johe sat in uneasy silence, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion.

Tackle stepped in, shutting the door behind her. “Shinku, you look… what’s wrong?”

Johe leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “You wake me up in the middle of the night, drag me here, and then you don’t say a word? Seriously, what the hell, dude?”

“Johe, quit it,” Tackle snapped, her eyes fixed on Shinku’s haunted expression. “Something’s wrong.”

Shinku raised his head, his voice quiet but firm. “I wanted to wait until you were all here.”

The tension in the room thickened as everyone exchanged uneasy glances.

“Kirria was killed last night,” Shinku finally said.

The words hit like a thunderclap. Tackle gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “What?!”

Johe’s eyes widened, his usual bravado melting away. “The little girl?! Are you serious?!”

Bontly, who had been silent until now, lowered his head, his voice barely audible. “Oh no…”

Shinku’s voice was heavy with anguish. “Her mother called me when she didn’t come home. I found her… Her neck was mangled—a blunt force attack on her way home.”

Tackle’s legs felt weak. “Where is she now?”

“I took her to the morgue myself,” Shinku replied, his hands trembling slightly.

Bontly’s gaze dropped to Shinku’s hands. “Her blood…You haven’t washed it off yet.”

Tackle moved to Shinku’s side, her grip firm as she pulled him toward the bathroom. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

The atmosphere was different at work in the early hours. The group walked in a tense formation, their steps echoing in the halls.

“What’s your plan, Shinku?” Bontly asked, breaking the silence.

Shinku didn’t hesitate. “I’m going to the Monitor. I want to take this case entirely by myself.”

Tackle stopped in her tracks, her concern evident. “Are you sure? We can help—”

“No,” Shinku interrupted, his tone steely. “This needs 100% of my focus. I don’t want it to distract you. If I need you, I’ll tell you.”

Tackle was startled by his resolve, but said nothing. The others exchanged uneasy glances but didn’t press him further.

They stopped outside Monitor Roton’s office, and without knocking, Shinku pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Roton looked up from his desk, his expression stern. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me,” Shinku said, stepping forward. “Officer Hayate.”

Roton nodded, gesturing for him to proceed. “What is it?”

Shinku took a deep breath. “Monitor Roton, I have a special request. The girl who was shadowing under my team—Kirria—was brutally murdered last night. I don’t believe this was a random crime. I suspect it was a targeted attack, possibly by the human killers.”

Roton’s expression darkened. “Go on.”

“I want full permission to handle this case myself,” Shinku said firmly. “To get justice for her.”

Roton gave Shinku his attention. “You don’t need my permission to take on a case, but I respect your dedication. I’m deeply sorry for your loss. You’re certain this was a targeted attack?”

“Yes,” Shinku said. “And I need to understand what’s fueling this war between humans and us.”

Roton nodded slowly. “I’ve heard of these ‘humans killers’, but their motives remain unclear. If you believe you can uncover the truth, you have my blessing. I commend your passion.”

“Thank you, Monitor,” Shinku bowed.

As he left the office, the group outside looked at him expectantly. “How’d it go?” Tackle asked.

“I’ve been given permission to pursue this alone,” Shinku said. “Please focus on your work. If I need anything, I’ll reach out.”

Tackle hesitated, concern flickering in her eyes, but eventually nodded. The others did the same. Without another word, Shinku turned and walked away, the weight of his vow pressing heavily on his shoulders.