Debriefs & Boredom

Rei scraped the last of the curry from her plate, her chopsticks clicking against ceramic. Across the table, Karasu sipped his beer, eyes scanning the evening’s crime reports flickering across his corneal display. “The Kuroda boy,” he said, without looking up, “How’d it go?” Rei wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, “His friends are idiots. He doesn’t seem completely like one though.” Karasu’s lips twitched, “Most rich corpo kids are entitled assholes – did he seem interested?” Rei shrugged, “He teased me. Called me ‘street mouse’ when his friends were around.” She flipped her hair – a poor imitation of the hostess’ practiced grace, “But he smiled at me when his friends weren’t looking.” Karasu set his glass down, “Good. That’s a start.” Rei frowned. “He seems more interested in being cool in front of his friends, than flirting with me.”

“For now”, Karasu leaned back, hair catching the pale kitchen light, “Seduction isn’t just about sex. It’s about attention. Make him feel like the only person you see, and he’ll hand you his family’s firewall codes just to keep you smiling.” Rei sighed, but she’d taken notes. Karasu had seen her – poring over the hostesses’ lessons like they were combat manuals, practicing walks in too-big heels. She stood, gathering their plates.

The clatter of plates was the only sound for a long moment. Rei moved between the table and the sink, her movements efficient, a quiet rhythm in the small apartment. Karasu remained at the table, swirling the dregs of his beer, his gaze no longer on the crime reports but on her. He watched the way the soft fabric of her sweater draped over the new, gentle curve of her hip. Saw how the hostess lessons had refined her posture, turning a street-smart slouch into a poised, almost unconscious grace.

But it was layered over that core of iron will he’d seen the night she arrived; the unflinching stare, the set of her jaw that promised she would never break, only bend if she chose to. The combination was a potent, dangerous alchemy. “The ‘street mouse’ comment,” he began, his voice deceptively casual. He lit a cigarette, the blue flame briefly illuminating the sharp planes of his face, “It’s a test. A boy like that, he pushes to see if you’ll flinch. To see if you’re truly from the gutter, or just playing dress-up.” Rei paused, a plate in her hand, her back to him, “I didn’t flinch.”

“I know. But make sure your responses aren’t too forceful. A shrug, a flip of the hair – it’s a deflection. It tells him he hit a nerve”, he exhaled a plume of smoke, his eyes tracking the subtle shift of her shoulders as she listened, “The trick is in not being obvious. You don’t need to beckon him. You need to make him want to come closer of his own volition.” She turned to face him, her expression carefully neutral, but her black eyes were alight with focused attention. He felt a familiar, possessive pull low in his gut, a sensation he immediately suppressed.

“Think of your body as a dialect,” he instructed, his tone that of a master craftsman lecturing an apprentice, “An open posture.” He gestured vaguely with his cigarette, “Don’t cross your arms. Don’t angle your body away. When he looks at you, meet his gaze for a second too long, then look down as if you’re shy. Not frightened. Intrigued. You are not lunging. You are a door left slightly ajar, inviting him to be the one to push it open.” He took a long drag, his gaze sweeping over her again, from the fiery crown of her head to the confident way she stood her ground before him. A flicker of something dark and irritable sparked within him – the image of Takumi Junior seeing this, responding to this.

“Too much force is suspicious,” he continued, forcing his voice to remain a clinical drone, “A desperate person grabs. A confident person… allows. You are not trying to capture him. You are allowing yourself to be discovered. There’s a difference. He needs to believe the desire is his own invention, not your suggestion.” Rei’s head tilted. He could almost see the gears turning behind her eyes, filing the lesson away next to the others. She nodded slowly, “Sure, be the ajar door. Not the hunter.”

Karasu stubbed out his cigarette with a sharp, final motion, “Precisely.” The lecture was over. Something unspoken remained, thickening the air between them. He wanted to tell her to be careful, to remember that the boy was a tool, a means to an end. But the words felt like a betrayal of his own ruthless philosophy. Instead, he simply watched as she turned back to the sink, the graceful line of her neck, the quiet certainty in her movements, a silent testament to how quickly she was evolving from a likely liability into his most captivating, and therefore most risky, asset.

Rei began to clean up, turning toward the sink, she rolled up her sleeves to her elbow, revealing a fresh bruise on her forearm. Karasu’s fingers tightened around his cup. She was working all weekdays in front of the university, no more lessons with Aoto lately.

“Did Takumi Junior do that?”, he asked, voice tense. Rei glanced down, then shrugged, “A university security guard. Thought I was pickpocketing or something.” She said it like it was nothing. Like pain was just part of the job. Karasu exhaled through his nose. The school didn’t let their rich pupils mix with common folks easily.

Rei scrubbed the dishes, her back to him. The rhythm of it, water running, plates clinking, sent a needle of memory sliding between his ribs. Karasu recalled his mother at the sink, humming, her kimono sleeves tied back with a frayed ribbon. Steam curled from the rice cooker, fogging the window where ten-year-old Karasu sat, legs swinging. “Eat fast,” she said, not unkindly, “I’ve got a rehearsal at noon. I dance on the main podium tonight.” Behind her, his father lurched in from the bedroom, shirtless, the biomech augments along his spine glitching. Half-drunk or half in love – it was always hard to tell.

“You’re leaving already?” His voice was a graveled purr as he wrapped arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck. She laughed, swatting him away, “I’ve got bills to pay, baka.” “Pay them later”, he spun her, pressing her against the counter, kissing her like the world was ending. Karasu looked away, cheeks burning. Then, a crash from the alley. His father stiffened, all tenderness gone, “Who the fuck—” He was out the door in three strides, fists already raised. His mother sighed, untangling her ribbon, “Finish your breakfast, koishii. And don’t follow him.”

The faucet squeaked off. Rei turned, drying her hands on her jeans. “You’re staring”, Karasu blinked. The ghost of his mother’s ribbon dissolved into thin air. “You’ll keep going back to the University every other day until he approaches you,” he said, pushing up from the table, “Keep playing the mouse. Let him chase.” Rei smirked, “What if he doesn’t chase after me?” Karasu paused at the door, suit jacket slung over his shoulder, back to her, “Then make him.” The door shot and the apartment hummed, the quiet of a space suddenly too big for one person.

A few weeks later the afternoon sun cut across the university gates, gleaming off polished chrome augments and crisp navy uniforms. Students drifted in clusters, laughing too loudly, eyes flicking toward Rei’s little foldable table like it was a stain on the marble steps. She stood calmly behind the array of necklaces and bracelets, adjusting one strand of glass beads so the light caught it just right. From the corner of her eye, she saw Takumi Kuroda Junior break away from his pack. His friends had cornered a pair of girls near the gate, their posturing loud and lanky. Takumi lingered a few steps behind them, hands in his pockets, eyes on her table.

Rei didn’t move, didn’t smile. She simply let him come to her. He stopped in front of her, looking down at the beads. His grey eyes, sharper in the sunlight, studied them longer than she expected. When he finally spoke, his tone was detached, but without the venom his friends carried, “Still here, street mouse.” Rei raised her head, meeting his gaze without flinching, “Still hungry, Takumi. And my name is Rei, not street mouse,” Something flickered in his eyes, amusement? Maybe respect. He picked up a bracelet, turning it between his fingers, “You keep telling people each one’s unique. Most of these sheep buy whatever mass-printed thing their parents’ credits put in their feeds.”

Rei tilted her head. She hadn’t expected him to sound so critical of his friends. Takumi continued, his smirk relaxing as he set the bracelet back down, “But if you want these students to pay, you need to give them something they can show off. Personalize it. Add letter beads – let them spell out their names, their lovers’ names, their gangs, whatever. Wealthy kids eat that up. Makes them feel like they’re original, even when they’re not.”

Rei blinked, caught off guard by how practical the suggestion was, “And if I wanted to sell more to guys? Should I use metal or black beads? What would you like?” His lips curved slightly, “Keyrings might work. Something guys can hang off their bags. Most corpo kids don’t buy beaded bracelets. But they’ll buy a keyring if it makes them look like they’ve got taste or a sensitive side, to get in with the ladies – might work right?” For the first time, Rei felt her expression soften.

She was genuinely impressed, “It might. That’s… good advice.” She paused, studying him more closely in curiosity, “You studying marketing?” Takumi half-smiled, the corner of his mouth quirking, “Something like that. Leadership and business. But marketing’s just business in prettier clothes.” Rei chuckled under her breath, “I guess, convincing people of what they want should help sell things. Sounds like good business to me.” Silence stretched between them, oddly comfortably. He didn’t sneer. She didn’t lower her gaze. For a moment, the noise of the campus faded, leaving just the two of them at the iron gates.

“Takumi!” one of his friends barked from across the quad, “Come on!” He exhaled wearily, then pulled a few crisp bills from his pocket and dropped them onto her table. “Keep it,” he said casually, already turning away, “Consider it an investment.” He didn’t take a bracelet. Didn’t look back. Rei watched him go, picking up the cash, the warmth of his presence lingering longer than his footsteps.

That evening at home, the smell of miso and vegetable tempura lingered in the apartment, steam fogging the kitchen window. Rei sat calmly at the table, chopsticks dangling in her hand. She was still half-smiling to herself, recalling the way Takumi’s grey eyes had softened when he spoke of her beads. Across from her, Karasu chewed slowly, watching. Always watching. “So,” he said at last, voice low, calm, “Tell me.”

Rei leaned forward, setting her bowl down, “He came alone today. No pack of hyenas to back him up. He called me street mouse again, but… not like before. He wasn’t mocking me. More like it was… a name he had picked for me.” Karasu raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt. “He gave me advice,” she continued, her tone tinged with disbelief, “Good advice. Said I should personalize the jewelry, add letters, make keyrings for the boys. It wasn’t stupid. He knows what he’s talking about.” She caught herself, lips pressing together, “I thanked him. Genuinely.” Karasu placed his chopsticks across his plate, “And how did he respond to that?” Rei hesitated, “He smiled. Not the arrogant smirk he wears for his friends. Something smaller. Quieter. When his friends called him, he left some cash. Said it was an investment. Didn’t even take a bracelet.”

Karasu’s silver-threaded hair fell forward as he leaned back, studying her. Rei shifted, uneasy under his gaze, “You think he’s playing me?” Karasu smirked faintly, “Everyone’s always playing someone. But this—”, he tapped one finger against the table, “—this is good. If he’s giving you advice, it means he wants you to succeed. He sees you as more than just a street mouse, whether he admits it or not.” Rei looked down, running her thumb over the edge of her chopsticks, “So what now?”  Karasu poured himself more beer, voice firm, “Now, we take the next step. You’ve got his attention, maybe even his respect. Tomorrow morning, I’ll brief you before you go. There’s a device I want you to carry.” Her head snapped up, “What kind of device?”

“You’ll know when you need to know”, his tone made it clear the matter was closed, “I’ll walk you part of the way to the university and explain soon enough.” Rei opened her mouth to argue, then thought better of it. Instead, she pushed her empty bowl away, “Okay Karasu-sama. Tomorrow, then.” Karasu watched her, eyes half-lidded, as if weighing not just her words but the space between them. He reached for his beer, his expression unreadable. “Don’t pout, Rei”, he said, his voice unexpectedly soft, “Tomorrow, your real task begins”.

The street hissed as rain hit the asphalt. Rei trailed behind Karasu, her boots tapping softly against the wet concrete. Morning rain, not as romantic as it sounded. The streets looked hungover more than lovesick. Karasu moved with the calm authority of someone who owned both the shadows and the light, pinstripes sleek against the rain-slicked streets. “You wanted to brief me?” Rei asked, voice low. She clutched a pink umbrella close while keeping her eyes on the surrounding alleys, scanning them for other people. Karasu didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on a holo-ad flickering above a Pad Thai food truck; something about Kuroda’s latest corporate drone.

“They’re predictable,” Karasu finally said, “Kuroda boys always are. Rules, schedules, daddy’s bodyguards breathing down their necks. But you—”, he looked at her, eyes glinting, “You’ll find the cracks. That’s your opening. Take this, it can scan the access codes on Takumi. You just need to be very close to him, preferably touching, for twenty minutes minimum.” Karasu produced a small device from his coat; a sleek, black cylinder no larger than his index finger. Rei nodded, pocketing the gadget, “Okay… I’ll find a way” Karasu’s lips twitched, “Good. I want resourceful.”

They reached the small street that led towards the University. A line of Kuroda security drones patrolled the perimeter at the far end, their sensors scanning everything in the area. Karasu paused, studying them, “Looks like they upgraded their sentries. Thermal, motion, audio filters. Not bad.” He turned to Rei, his expression unreadable, “Don’t do anything rash,” Karasu warned, face serious. “First, watch. Read the patterns. The boy has routines. Find out what he fears, what he wants, and what he hides. Then… you’ll act.” Rei stepped closer beside him, “And if I get caught?” Karasu’s gaze was granite, undaunted, “You don’t. If you do, you fail me.”

A brief silence hung between them, broken only by the hiss of rain and the distant hum of flickering ads and nearby air conditioners. Rei’s hands flexed, but her eyes stayed determined. Karasu noted it. She was green, but careful and fearless; traits that would make her invaluable if she survived. Rei was learning, always learning. In her, he saw a reflection of himself at that age: hungry, unafraid and devilishly clever. The rain continued to pour, the streets bleeding into puddles, and Karasu allowed himself the smallest thought: maybe, just maybe, this street mouse could be molded into something powerful enough to poke holes into even Kuroda. Like a sly fox. And then he turned, suit slick with rain, disappearing into the city’s humming chaos, leaving only the blue smoke of a cigarette.

The University courtyard was a bubble of privilege, manicured grass, spotless marble benches, and the ever-present hum of security drones. Rei leaned against the steel gates, just close enough to be noticed, just far enough to seem coincidental. The rain had finally stopped, but the marble was still a wet white mirror. Karasu’s newly curated clothes clung to her frame; soft purple sweater, black pleated skirt, burgundy knee-high boots polished to a dull shine. Not rich. Not poor. Takumi’s loudest friend spotted her first. “Look,” he drawled to the entourage, voice dripping with faux indifference, “The street rat learned how to dress.”

The pack of corporate pups snickered but Takumi’s expression was unreadable as he trailed behind them. Rei kept her face blank. The loud guy strutted closer. His uniform immaculate, his brown hair perfectly tousled. His eyes flickered to her legs, then away. “Shouldn’t you be picking pockets in Chochin?” he said, louder than necessary. Rei tilted her head, “Shouldn’t you be crying to your daddy to fill up your trust fund?”

A beat. Then one of his friends choked on a laugh. Takumi smiled faintly. Loud guy recovered, stepping into her space, “You’re funny for a gutter kid.” His cologne was expensive, but his breath smelled like the mint gum he’d chewed to hide his nicotine habit. Rei shrugged, “Funny keeps you alive where I’m from”, she let her gaze go to Takumi just for a second, his faceimpassive, “Is humor vital in the rich kid world too? Or is it just your daddy’s bank roll keeping you alive and kicking?” The loud guy swallowed. Hard. Anger flashing behind his eyes, but no words came out of his open mouth. Behind them, a drone whirred closer, scanning. Rei tensed but Takumi stepped forward, pulling his annoying friend back while waving the drone off, “False alarm.” The drone beeped, retreating. He had override codes.

Rei exhaled, letting her shoulders slump just enough to seem slightly vulnerable, “Your friends and toys don’t like me.” Takumi grinned, “They don’t like anyone. Go on guys, give me a minute with the mouse.” The others whistled teasingly before heading off. The loud guy was opposed at first but a girl in the group pulled him with her. Takumi glanced at Rei’s wrists, no implants. “You’re really just… natural huh?” She bit her lip, “I survive as myself. Doesn’t mean it’s easy.” She met his eyes, letting her voice soften, “Your buddies seem exhausting. The drones too. Do you ever just breathe? Just chill out?”

Takumi’s mask cracked. For a second, she saw it; the guy under the rich-kid surface, suffocating under expectations. Then his friends called him from afar and the moment shattered. He straightened, tossing her a practiced smile, “Stick around, mouse. Maybe I’ll teach you how the other half lives.” She watched him saunter away, her fingers brushing the beaded jewelry on her stall. Rei lingered near the iron gates long after Takumi had disappeared, the chatter of students and the distant hum of drones filling the courtyard. She felt eyes on her, but not from the usual security feeds. Takumi’s gaze had lingered longer than previously. Enough to plant possibility.

The next afternoon, she returned to the courtyard fence. She leaned against the same cold metal, arms crossed. Takumi emerged from the college’s shadowed hallway, alone this time, shoulders relaxed, but with that same carefully measured air of authority. He didn’t speak immediately, just watched her, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, “You’re working late.” His voice low, as if they were the only two at the University. “Or desperate and bored,” Rei countered. She let her stance soften, letting the slight tilt of her head and open palms make her seem approachable.

Her lessons whispered through her mind: humor, patience, just enough vulnerability. Takumi stepped closer, glancing around to make sure no drones hovered nearby. Then, in a move quick enough to seem accidental, he pressed a folded slip of paper into her palm. His fingers lingered a beat too long before he pulled away. Rei’s eyes flicked down. An address. A fancy restaurant in Sakura Avenues, the kind that served imported sake and had robotic waiters polished to a reflective shine. Her lips curved into the faintest smirk.

“Bold,” she murmured. Her fingers curled around the note, reading it twice to memorize it. “Think of it as… curiosity,” Takumi said, his voice easier now, “Show up. Show me how mice chill out.” She raised an eyebrow, “You don’t even know me. Yet you trust me enough to hang out alone?” He shrugged, “Don’t overthink it. I’m not desperate – but maybe I’m bored.” He stepped back, expression hardening slightly, his mask snapping back into place, “See you there.” As he melted into the crowd of the main street, Rei’s fingers brushed the note again, her mind already plotting. She could feel her lessons tightening around her, forming a strategy. A small, private smile appeared on her face. Picturing the glooms of Sakura Avenues’ neon glow.