Fine rain fell over the illuminated streets of Tokyo, casting distorted reflections in the puddles. Inside a dimly lit restaurant with dark wooden walls and paper lanterns, Hiroto Nishida and his wife, Rina, shared a quiet dinner. It was one of those nights where time seemed to slow, as if everything existed within the warm bubble of light and laughter they had created.
---"Do you remember what tomorrow is?" Rina asked with a knowing smile as she stirred her noodles.
Hiroto looked up, grinning.
---"Of course I do." He paused for dramatic effect. "It's the day of my last special ops mission."
She frowned, crossing her arms.
---"I wasn't talking about that… it's our anniversary, Hiroto."
He feigned surprise, placing a hand over his heart.
---"Really? I thought you meant a national holiday."
Rina shot him a mock glare, though her lips betrayed a smile.
---"You're impossible."
---"I know. But I'm impossible and yours." He leaned in to brush her hand. "Tomorrow, when this is all over, I want us to have a different life. No bulletproof vests, no night ops. Just you and me… maybe a couple of kids running around the house."
She watched him silently for a moment, her eyes softening.
---"That sounds perfect… but promise me one thing."
---"Anything."
---"That you'll come back tomorrow. Doesn't matter if it's late, doesn't matter if you're tired. Just… come back."
Hiroto squeezed her hand.
---"I will. I promise."
---"And don't forget the gift." Rina winked.
He laughed. ---"Ah, so this was a trap to make me remember."
The next morning, Rina left early for her shift at the art gallery. Hiroto ate breakfast alone, skimming the newspaper without really reading it. Before leaving, he placed his cup in the sink and glanced at their wedding photo hanging on the wall. "One last mission," he told himself.
At the main police station, the air smelled of strong coffee and gun oil. Chief Hiroshi Watanabe was waiting in his office.
---"Hiroto, I heard you're requesting a transfer after this mission." He leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "Is it true?"
---"Yes, Chief. I want out of special ops. I need something more… stable."
---"You're one of my best men." Hiroshi studied him, as if searching for a crack in his resolve. "But I suppose we all reach a point where we have to choose what matters most." He sighed. "Finish this mission. Then… we'll talk about your transfer."
---"Thank you, Chief."
---"And be careful out there. I don't need another funeral in my team."
That afternoon, three black vans left the barracks, driving through increasingly deserted streets until they reached the industrial district. Inside, the team checked their weapons and adjusted their vests.
---"Ready to sign more arrest warrants, Nishida?" joked Kenta, a young but reliable sniper.
---"As long as you don't miss your shots, I won't miss my signatures," Hiroto replied with a faint smile.
The tension was palpable, but the banter helped keep their minds sharp.
The target: a cell of the Red Serpent mafia, holed up in an abandoned factory. Intelligence had confirmed they were preparing a major shipment of illegal weapons.
---"Remember, we have two minutes to neutralise the threat before they activate their escape route," a sergeant warned as he loaded his rifle.
Hiroto checked his vest and tightened his helmet. The humid air made the fabric cling to his skin.
---"Once we're in, cut off the side exits. I'll take point."
The signal came—three sharp taps in their earpieces. The doors burst open, and the silence shattered under a hail of gunfire. The air filled with dust and the acrid smell of gunpowder. Shouts, orders, hurried footsteps. Hiroto took cover behind a rusted container, returning fire with surgical precision. One enemy fell a few metres away; another tried to flee up a metal staircase but took a bullet to the leg.
---"Area secure!" Kenta shouted from the second floor.
Minutes later, the survivors were handcuffed and loaded into custody vehicles. Hiroto's breath was ragged, but a spark of satisfaction glinted in his eyes. Another mission accomplished.
Back home, the aroma of curry enveloped him.
---"Everything go alright?" Rina asked, apron on and hair tied up.
---"Yeah…" He smiled slightly and hugged her from behind. "It was a success."
---"Good… that means you'll be here with me tomorrow." She turned to kiss him. "And we can celebrate properly."
During dinner, the news played on the TV: "Police have dismantled the dangerous gang…" On screen, Hiroto appeared, declaring: "They won't trouble Tokyo or Japan anymore."
---"Look at you, a proper hero," Rina said proudly.
---"Just doing my job."
The next morning was quiet. Hiroto woke alone again—Rina had already left. He spent the morning reviewing documents and stopped by a jewellery shop in the afternoon. There, he found a heart-shaped locket that opened. Inside, he placed their wedding photo.
At home, he hid the gift in a drawer before she returned. Later, they prepared for the recognition ceremony at the central police station. The hall was filled with uniforms and applause.
---"This man," Hiroshi said from the stage, "has risked his life for the safety of our city. Today, we honour him not just for his bravery, but for his integrity." He pinned the medal to Hiroto's chest and gave his shoulder a firm pat.
That evening, Hiroto returned to the station to finalise his transfer.
---"Your request is approved," Hiroshi said. "You deserve the quiet life you're after."
Hiroto left the office smiling. He imagined Rina's face when he told her.
But that night, the house was silent.
---"Rina…" he called, setting his keys on the table. He walked to the bedroom.
She lay on the bed, covers pulled up to her neck. At first, he thought she was asleep. He leaned down to kiss her, pulling back the sheet—and his world shattered. Her mouth was open, her tongue gone. Her hands rested on her chest, clutching a blood-soaked note:
"You took something important from me. Now I take something important from you."
His knees buckled. Sobs wracked his body.
The days that followed were a blur of sirens, questions, and silence. The forensics team scoured every corner of the house. Hiroto sat at the dining table, answering in a hollow voice.
---"Did you receive any threats after the operation?" an inspector asked.
---"Not directly… but I expected this."
A friend from the team, Riku, came to see him.
---"Hiroto… you don't have to stay here alone. Come with me for a few days."
---"No…" he whispered. "This is where… I can still hear her."
At night, insomnia drove him to wander the house. He opened drawers, stared at objects, then put them back. In the kitchen, he found a cup with dried coffee stains—one Rina hadn't washed—and gazed at it as if it were a relic.
The funeral was held under a grey sky. The priest spoke in a solemn voice:
---"Rina was a woman of light. Her life reminds us that true love exists… and that its loss leaves us broken."
Rina's parents hugged him.
---"Take care, son…" her father said. "We know you loved her more than anything."
---"I'm sorry…" Hiroto could barely speak.
Hiroshi approached afterward.
---"Don't carry this guilt alone. We'll find who did this."
Hiroto looked at him, making no promises. Inside him, a shadow grew.
When everyone had left, he remained by the grave until the sky darkened. That night, at home, he sat with the medal in one hand and the locket in the other. And he knew—part of him had died with Rina… but another part had just awakened.