Strikes and Silhouettes

I woke to the dull hum of the city beyond my window, the early morning light creeping in.

Everything that happened last night reminded me that the peace and quiet now would not be the same again.

I just didn't know when and how things would change.

I sat up, rubbing the exhaustion from my eyes—then froze.

Papers on my desk were out of place. My notebook sat open, flipped to a page I hadn’t touched in days.

Until I saw her--

Sitting casually on my desk chair, legs crossed, flipping through the scattered papers I had left behind from all my research.

"How--"

She barely looked up. "You left your balcony door unlocked."

I live on the fourth floor.

"You could've knocked," I muttered, "I would've let you in."

She smirked, finally meeting my gaze. "Who would want to get up at three in the morning?"

Three in the morning?

That made me glance at the clock.

5 a.m.

She had been here for two hours.

Watching. Waiting.

"I wanted you to get the rest so you'd be at full force for your first lesson."

"You have your lunch break at noon, right?"

I didn't answer.

She chuckled lightly, slipping off the desk with a slow stretch. "Go to the rooftop during that time."

She stepped toward the door, pausing just long enough to glance back at me.

"Better get ready for school now; you don't want to be late, right?"

And just like that, she was gone.

...

The school halls buzzed with life—students moving between classes, conversations blending into white noise.

Then lunch came.

I moved through the corridor, keeping my steps calm and steady, even though my mind ran in circles.

I turned the corner near the stairwell—then stopped short.

Spectre stood there, waiting.

"Took you long enough." She gestured for me to follow.

I thought they always locked the rooftop; how did she...?

My gaze turned towards the doorknob.

It was barely hanging on, like someone kicked it really hard.

The rooftop gave us a wide view of the school grounds, students walking, forming groups, everything can be seen.

Spectre leaned against the railing, eyes scanning the crowds. "A person's normal routine is subjective. One small change, like a missing item or an unexpected event, can throw someone off. Subtle, but noticeable."

She points towards a group of students. "Tell me. What do you see?"

"I see a bunch of people talking to each other."

"Wrong." She said flatly. "You see the guy and girl over there?"

I stared. "Yeah?"

"They like each other."

"And?"

Spectre slowly facepalms. "And the guys behind him are his wingmen."

She sighed, "You have to think deeper, Ren; every minor detail can have a huge effect on a mission."

She turns her attention to another student. "Here's another. Do you see your classmate over there? Mika Asano." "Do you see anything different with her today?"

I take a long look at her, "I see that her uniform is a bit messed up today, and uhh she doesn't have her tied up as per usual."

She gives a slow applause. "Good job, you're learning." She leans on the railing. "As a reward..." She pulls out a hair tie from her pocket.

She tossed the hair tie to me, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

I instinctively catch the hair tie.

And that small moment of distraction was all she needed.

Spectre lunged.

I barely was able to react before she landed her first hit on my shoulder.

I stumbled, nearly losing my balance.

"Lesson two," she said smoothly. "Combat."

Before I could understand the situation, she throws another punch, my arm barely blocking the impact.

Then Spectre dropped low, her leg sweeping mine, sending me crashing onto the rooftop floor.

She crouches beside me, tilting her head, "Too slow."

I exhaled sharply, trying to focus.

"I didn’t know we were fighting."

Spectre tilted her head, mock amusement flashing in her eyes. 

"You think enemies announce their intentions?"

She extended a hand, pulling me back to my feet.

"One more round." she said.

I steadied myself, fists clenched. This time I went on the offensive, lunging forward.

She effortlessly sidestepped, grabbing my arm using my own momentum against me.

In one swift motion, her arm snaked around my neck, locking me into a chokehold.

I clawed at her forearm, twisting my body, trying to leverage my strength—but her hold was solid. 

She barely had to adjust her stance to keep me in place.

"Not bad," she murmured, her voice steady against my ear. "But you extend your arm too much."

Seconds dragged on, my pulse hammering louder in my ears.

Spectre suddenly turned her attention towards the stairwell.

Footsteps.

Someone was coming up.

She suddenly let go of me.

I staggered forward, coughing, chest heaving as I sucked in air again.

Just as the rooftop door swung open.

"Ren Takahashi!"

I turned, my entire body still tense, muscles aching.

One of the teachers stood there, arms crossed, brows furrowed.

"What are you doing alone up here? And why is the doorknob broken?"

Alone?

"I was just—." I looked behind me.

Spectre had vanished without a trace.

"The doorknob was broken when I got there. I—I just needed some fresh air."

The teacher frowned but didn’t press further.

"You know the rooftop is off-limits," he said. "Come with me. You’re not supposed to be up here."

I glanced toward the railing where I and Spectre had stood just moments ago.

Still nothing.

How did she do that?

...

The day rolled by, and still no signs of where Spectre went.

All that training had made my muscles sore, and my energy was way down.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as I stepped into the convenience store, grabbing something quick—anything.

While browsing the aisle looking for my favourite energy drink, a familiar voice cuts through the quiet. "You know those energy drinks are bad for you?"

I turned—Spectre stood at the end of the aisle, eyeing my selection with amusement.

"I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t nearly snapped my neck a few hours ago."

She smirked, stepping closer. "Sore?"

"You don’t say." I rolled my shoulder, grimacing slightly. "I’m not exactly built for getting thrown around like a rag doll."

Spectre chuckled, taking a bottle of water from the shelf.

As we moved to the counter, Spectre reached forward, sliding a fairly large bill across the counter.

"I got it," she said smoothly. Grabbing her drink and stepping outside.

I blinked. "Wait—what?"

When the cashier handed me the change, I hurried after her.

I held it out. “Here.”

Spectre waved me off. “No. Keep it.”

"I'm guessing this whole agent job pays well."

She takes a sip. "It's not about the money, Ren."

I hesitantly pocket the change. "Then why? I'm sure that you get into some dangerous situations all the time."

"People think they have control over their lives," she murmured. 

"But most just follow the path set for them—school, work, expectations. They don’t realise how little say they actually have."

She turned slightly, eyes sharp.

"An agent takes control. They decide their own path. Their own future. No one else."

She tilted her head slightly.

"Though the pay is decent."

She throwsaway the bottle. "Come on, we're getting sidetracked," she said. "Time for the last training session."

Spectre led me to an old storage facility at the quiet side of the city.

Spectre turned to me, reached into her jacket—and then pulled out a handgun.

Without hesitation, she pointed it straight at me. "This is your final training for today."

I stiffened. "Can you not--"

"Relax, the safety is on." She hands me the handgun. "I'll teach you the basics."

"First the grip." She watched as I tried to adjust the handgun in my hand, but before I could get comfortable, she reached over, fixing my fingers. "Now you see the little switch on the side? That's the safety.

"When you're ready, flip that and aim towards your target."

I exhaled, tightening my grip, feeling the weight settle more naturally.

"Good," she nodded. "Now, stance."

I shifted slightly, but Spectre sighed, tapping the side of my foot with hers.

She points towards something at the wall. "Alright, now aim for that makeshift target over there."

I swallowed, exhaled, and lined up my shot.

Spectre chuckled. "Try not to miss."

I fired.

The shot rang out into the still night air—wide, barely grazing the side of the target.

Spectre raised a brow. "Not terrible."

She stepped behind me, adjusting my arms again.

"You're thinking too much," she murmured. "Just breathe. Focus. And pull—don’t jerk."

I reset, inhaled, and squeezed the trigger.

This time, the bullet hit centre.

Spectre grinned.

"Better."

She took the gun back; now she's aiming down range. "Though in a real firefight, you need to be fast and aware of your surroundings."

She effortlessly dumps the rest of the bullets, all hitting the centre of the target.

"That's enough for tonight. You have school tomorrow?" the last echo of gunfire fading into the still night.

"You already know the answer; why ask?" I muttered.

Spectre chuckled, slipping the empty handgun away.

"Then let’s go. No point in staying here."

Confused, I stuttered. "Wait—you're coming with me?"

She tilted her head slightly, giving me a look as if the answer was obvious. "You’re the one complaining about being sore. You don't want to get stabbed in some alleyway again, right?"

I frowned. "I can manage."

Spectre scoffed but didn’t argue. She simply started walking, and I had no choice but to follow.

Once we approached my apartment, she stopped. "Get some rest; you'll be needing it." 

For some reason, I didn’t move right away.

Maybe it was the lingering tension from the training or the fact that she had spent the entire night throwing me into walls and locking me into chokeholds.

Spectre raised a brow, clearly noticing my hesitation.

She smirked. "What, you want me to tuck you in? Sing you a lullaby?"

I scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Maybe even a bedtime story while you're at it."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Not happening."

She shooed me towards the stairwell, "Well, go on."

With that, she turned, walking back toward the city.

I whispered under my breath, "Good night, Spectre."

Somehow she heard it.

She stopped, glancing back with a small smile.

"Good night to you too, Ren."